Forced Shutdown of the Very Needed Kind.

My laptop battery dies, taking with it the sounds and activities that have been consuming me since the school bus pulled away from the house. I had, probably, three or four tasks running and around nine tabs open in Firefox.

Ignoring my Sony Vaio's warning messages -

10% battery life remaining 

7% battery life remaining 

I thought if I could just hurry and get this one thing done, then I'd get the cord.

CRITICAL LOW BATTERY - 5%

Shutdown.

I happen to be sitting on my bed, so I close the lid and lay my head back, closing my eyes. I hear things: a bird chirping right outside my bedroom window. The ceiling fan directly below in the family room whirring rhythmically. A lawn mower in the distance. One of the dogs chewing on a bone in the room somewhere. I've never been so grateful for an electronic failure. My own forced shutdown.

The realization that this minimal sensory input is so inherently more fulfilling ironically hits me like a bomb.

Gut check.

I ignore that critical low battery warning in my own self every day that comes in many forms - some blatant, some more subtle.

I have a lot to do today here at home, errands to run, and not nearly enough time to do it all before I have to be at work this afternoon. There is never enough time in the day or enough energy in this mama. Some people work part-time; some people work full-time; some work over-time. Moms work all-time.

And moms with special needs kids work *&#$+h*&^%-time (symbols indicating a word that doesn't exist in our language).

During my son's (with Asperger's) therapy session yesterday, the therapist turned from him, looked me dead in the eye and said, "Do you know you have ADHD?" 

Ya think?
 
Yeah, I know. And I pay dearly for it - the least of which is the $150 medication that I take to help me function. I tried going off of it for three months earlier this year to save money  and - let me just tell you - when the neurons and neurotransmitters in your brain don't work properly, don't stop taking the med that corrects that. It nearly wrecked me. And you probably don't want to ask my husband about it at all. I think he's blocked that time out, and we don't wanna go bringing that to the surface.

It was kind of amusing that she said that in the middle of a session about something else, but on a deeper level it was validating that someone who knows the brain and how it works (besides the doctor who diagnosed me) can spend time with me peripherally while treating my son and see it. She's either that good . . . or I'm that bad.

ADHD is such a flippant diagnosis these days that it has become like a dirty little secret for those who truly suffer from its sometimes crippling effects. It's as if hearing that come out of your mouth, whether it's about you or one of your children, suddenly undermines your credibility - as if that's your excuse for what's going on here.

Aaaaaand we're back. (See how this ADHD thing works?)

Ignoring the critical battery message isn't even all that much about balancing everything for me - it's about convincing myself to pick and choose what I need to do and what I don't. Or more honestly, prioritizing what really is important versus what I just simply have to let go.

And forced shutdowns? Yeah, that needs to happen more often for me or I'm going to be no good for anyone.

Thoughts?